


Corey's Catalog

by Corey-067 (Aliit_Netra)



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Multiple Relationships, Other, Tumblr: Writing-prompt-s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-01-05 18:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliit_Netra/pseuds/Corey-067
Summary: A collection of writing prompt responses and shorts done for the Halo fandom, cross-posted from Tumblr. Trigger warnings, if they apply, will be posted in the chapter notes.





	1. Whump Prompt 26 - Shot

**Author's Note:**

> TWs: Blood, injury detail, PTSD flashbacks, gutshot, sci-fi violence (Halo-typical)
> 
> I’d like to thank CIA391 from Halopedia for the info and chat we had about the Blamite and how it works, plus the Superfund peeps for keeping me motivated to write when it’s been grinding to a halt.

_“Arcus Actual, Arcus Two: we’ve got the spaceport on lockdown. Got a fair few Covie vehicles here, some gear they were trying to get out before we took ‘em down.”_

“Arcus Actual. Nice work, Spartans. We’ll be in touch shortly.”

The Spartan ducked to the side, his armor blaring warnings at him as a beam rifle strike intended for Commander Lasky struck Corey’s chest, his shields taking the brunt of the impact - though he staggered from the force of the shot. Captain Del Rio had sent Lasky and a small contingent of Marines to scout out a former Covenant supply depot - one which supposedly contained a number of Forerunner relics. “Keep your damned head down!” The Spartan-II snapped, suddenly realizing who he was talking to. “Sir.” He muttered. 'Spartan time’ was in full effect, and he searched for the familiar red glow of the Jackal’s helmet, his eyes recovering quickly from the afterburn from the beam.

“Two o'clock high! Suppressing fire!” Corey bellowed into the comms, forcing Lasky into what passed for cover as though he weighed nothing. They could observe proper etiquette when his charge - his friend - wasn’t in danger. Shots rang out, followed by the whoosh of an M41 rocket launcher. The satisfaction of the detonation was only surpassed by the squawk of the Jackal in question, and a grim smirk crossed his hidden features. Gesturing for the marines to circle the complex, Corey tossed a pair of grenades into what his motion tracker told him was the last holdout of enemies in play. They detonated, and bodies went flying.

The trouble with motion trackers was simple. They were perfect for detecting incoming threats, and he’d even worked with several of the toys that ONI had developed to identify the electronic frequencies which the Elites’ active camouflage gave off. If a second sniper was set back outside of the forty-meter range of his motion tracker, but also immobile, they were incredibly difficult to spot, even for someone with a Spartan’s enhanced vision. His hand was still on Lasky’s shoulder, keeping the Commander down behind the nanolaminate wall when the shots rang out.

Corey’s reflexes were perhaps the fastest of any Spartan-II outside of Kelly, and only Kelly had been able to defeat him consistently in terms of raw speed - with his HERMES-class Mjolnir armor he was practically untouchable. The sound of shattering glass pierced the whine of his shield monitor, as the first of three blamite shards from a needle rifle struck the top of the wall. He was moving, faster than Lasky had seen a human - Spartan or not - move. It wasn’t enough. It saved his life, without question - he still had vivid memories of what one of those needles could do to an unshielded Spartan, as Kat had died before he’d even managed to catch her. Corey only managed to move enough to turn a lethal blow into a gut shot, the third needle glancing off of the top of his domed visor.

He dropped behind cover, and Lasky stared at him, calling for a medic on comms, but receiving only static in reply. There was a level of panic radiating from the commander that Corey had never seen, in all the years he’d known the man. “ _Lasky_!” Half a tonne of Spartan slammed into the nanolaminate surface, and Corey could see that Infinity’s commander was somewhere else entirely.

He was shocked that the blamite crystal hadn’t detonated, the pink-purple shard was pulsing, threatening to do just that, and it’d lodged itself directly beneath his armor plate. It needed to removing carefully, and he didn’t have an angle to do so. Lasky was miles, or perhaps years away, and Corey knew that he had to reach him.

“ ** _Lasky_**!” He barked again, with all the authority he could muster. In his mind, it was the voice of Chief Mendez, the authoritative bark he heard whenever he needed to push himself just that little bit harder. The part of a soldier’s brain which resonates with that tone, drilled in from morning to night for years woke up, and he blinked rapidly, memories of the bodies of his classmates drifting into the background of his vision, threatening to resurface at any time.

_Everything was a blur. Smoke and shadow, darkness lit by streaks of green and pink, the muzzle flashes of ODST’s fighting a valiant, losing fight. Mehaffey had been protecting him, as well. “Get to the dorm! Go!” Her gestures were frantic, but she remained in control. “Go! Go! GO!” And then that sound, needler fire struck her chest, her shoulders and took her off of her feet. His mind was on a loop, deafened by the cacophony of this brand new war that had burst into their young lives in a blaze of plasma fire. A hand grabbed him, hard, dragging him into the light…_

“Tom, I need you here.  _Now_.” Corey was holding the wound closed around the shard, he needed it gone, but it was all Tom could do to look his reflection in the face. He slipped back into it.

_It was a nightmare; it had to be. Aliens? Here? Hastati was cut in half, only saved by the timely intervention of Master Chief 117. He never found out his name, if he even had one, just the number stenciled onto his armor. He trusted the Chief with his life, though he couldn’t place why, and that trust was well placed, as he took fire, saving them again. Sully was hit but walking. General Black’s lifeless eyes haunted him as he dragged his body from his Warthog, and fear kept his head down as he tried desperately to get the vehicle started. And then they were clear. It was incredibly surreal, escaping into the forest, weapons blaring around him as those creatures with shields fell, Chyler putting her years of rifle training to efficient use. They were retreating as the Spartan, and the cadre of cadets sped towards the Pelican. Someone yelled, he wasn’t quite sure who, and the vehicle was blasted by the wash of a plasma grenade. The cadet slammed on the brakes, fearing that he’d send them off into the trees if he didn’t stop until his vision cleared, the thump of a jackal hitting the windshield reminding him that he needed to get the engine running as fast as possible, but it wasn’t working._

The report of a Battle Rifle firing jogged Tom out of his reverie, the Spartan beside him finding it in himself to take out the sniper, despite his injury. The first burst missed entirely, but the next was on point. Three rounds, spread further than usual because he was shaking with the effort to hold himself up pierced the Jackal’s skull, killing it instantly. Corey could feel the blood beneath his armor’s undersuit, and he dropped. It was far from the most blood he’d lost, but he knew he needed it sealing, and soon.

Gunfire wasn’t enough to break Lasky from his waking nightmare entirely, and Corey was running out of options, aside from simply slapping his face.

_“Tom? Tom?!” Each moment that he didn’t react, Chyler’s voice became more panicked. Once he realized what was going on, he screamed for the Chief, but he had no biofoam. They had to get her to the Pelican before she bled out, which would’ve been a challenge on a good day, and today was definitely not one of those. They ran as best as they could, panting breaths and Chyler’s whimpers punctuated only by the staccato sound of 117’s assault rifle and the roars of the creature that dwarfed even their savior. Terror propelled them forward, but that adrenaline only carried them so far. They were all exhausted and had been running on fumes since the invasion had started. They were cadets, not ODSTs; they weren’t prepared for this. How could they be?_

More Covenant troops were exiting the facility, and Corey would’ve typically used this time to rush the doors, blast his way through the Covie line and get inside, a tactic the Spartans had used to great effect on numerous occasions. His body geared itself up for the sprint, even before the logical aspect of his brain reminded him that he had to protect Tom until the Marines returned, and the pain told him that he was still injured. His shields refused to recharge, likely because of the Subanese shard sticking through his abdomen. Corey released his hold on the crystal, a strange combination of pulsing heat and cold, he pulled the fiberoptic camera from a pouch attached to his armor. The camera displayed on his HUD, and if he’d had more time, he’d have connected the Smart Link from his BR-55 as well, but as it was, he just had to make guesses. At the whine of a plasma grenade on the other side of their barrier, the Spartan covered the Commander’s form with his armored body, the detonation shaking Tom out of his reverie, as tears streamed down his cheek, dripping onto his fist that appeared to be miming holding another person’s hand.

Corey fired blind, adjusting the angle of his rifle based on the trace of each three round burst. He killed two of the new arrivals, though he managed to drive the rest back into cover, waiting for them to pop their heads up.

“You’ve seen this before, haven’t you, sir?” The Spartan asked, noting Lasky’s reaction as his eyes flickered down to the injury.

The Commander nodded; his eyes glassy with tears. Corey recalled John telling him what had happened during their evacuation of Corbulo - the way that his friend had died. Corey winced, though not from the pain. Along with Linda, he’d flown the Pelican out of there, but he’d not met any of the cadets when they reached their destination, not meeting Lasky until years later, during his pilot days.

“I understand that this is painful for you, sir,  _but I need you to focus_.” Corey rumbled. “The Marines will be back soon, but we need to take the first steps n-  _keep your damned head down, sir_!” The Spartan’s voice was warm and steady, holding a comforting certainty that hadn’t been getting through to Infinity’s XO until he got snappy. He wasn’t feeling as confident as he sounded, but he knew that he needed to project that for Lasky’s sake.

Lasky came closer, and as he took a closer look at Corey’s wound, the remaining color drained from his face. He looked as though he was about to either vomit or vanish into his head once again, until the Spartan gripped his arm, hard. The pain was enough to keep him focused on the present. “Look, Tom, this won’t kill me, but I need your help.” He shook the Commander’s arm, for emphasis. “Focus on my voice, Tom. Everything will be okay, and I just need you to focus on doing as I say. I’ll walk you through it.” He paused a moment, switching off his vocoder as he gasped with pain. “Freya, can you make sure that my shields don’t recharge? Last thing I need is to be ripped apart because that energy overloads the crystal.”

There was a momentary pause, and the alarm cut. “I’ve disconnected it from your armor’s power supply, Corey. Just remember not to stick your head into the line of fire until after we’ve booted it back up. I’m not a fan of you injuring yourself.” Despite the rich amusement in the AI’s tone, he knew that she was entirely serious.

“Yes dear.” He deadpanned, and for a moment her avatar glowed green on his HUD, arms crossed and shaking her head.

“What do you need me to do?” Lasky’s shaky voice cut in. There he was - the soldier that John had described from Corbulo. Brave despite what he was feeling, or perhaps because of it. Corey passed him a biofoam canister, a small model which he kept on his belt for extended field missions, something that came in useful in this case as his suit’s injectors were either empty, or the local one was damaged, and he hadn’t realized. Ideally, the shard would’ve been removed with actual medical equipment, but it wasn’t the first time he’d had to improvise in the field.

Finding a neatly folded square of slightly grease-splattered cloth in one of his belt pouches, he passed it over as well. Tom was shaking, perhaps too much to do what was necessary, and Corey’s eyes darted rapidly from side to side as he searched the officer’s face, searching for something for him to hold onto. He couldn’t comfort him the way he did other Spartans, it simply wasn’t enough for the vast majority of people. “Pop open the biofoam canister, ready to use. One layer of cloth around your fingers, to avoid any potential charge transference,” Corey told him, forced steadiness in his tone. It might have been seconds, minutes or even hours since he took the hit, but he could feel that he needed this dealt with now. “Take hold of the end in one hand, slide it towards you, gently, as straight as you can. Biofoam goes in straight after.”

“Okay.” The Commander breathed, his fingers shaking.

“Tom, look at me. The Master Chief believed in you, all those years ago. If he were here today, he would still. I know that because I do. Right here and now. You can do this.” Lasky’s eyes hardened, his jaw setting at the mention of John, the confidence that he’d shown in Tom all those years ago still stirred something in him now. He wouldn’t let him down.

His gauntlet-clad fist squeezed his battle rifle with enough force that the casing creaked, cracking under his powerful grip, heat, and cold, as well as jolts of electrical charge, coursing through the area of the wound as the subanese crystal shivered its way free. Tom inserted the biofoam end, and the sensation changed, a combination of a crawling itch, pain, and relief blending themselves together as the life-saving substance did its work.

“Save some, Tom.” He gestured towards the crystal. “Coat that in it, and let’s get it into the canister. It’s rare that we see them like this outside of lab conditions, maybe it’ll give us new answers.” He was in too much pain to smile with any feeling, so out of reflex, two fingers came up in front of his mouth, swiping across quickly, as the Commander frowned, then realization set in.


	2. "I'll Never Unsee That."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set at some point between the events of Halo 4 and 5, precise time unknown. Spartans are preparing for an extended deployment, and Veta's ONI Ferret team are being deployed on an investigation.

The  _Infinity’s_  hangar bay was a swarm of activity, a transfer of personnel was underway with many of the ship’s company of Spartans and Marines being transferred groundside for deployments mopping up Jul M’dama’s Covenant forces on yet another world. Infinity’s presence was making a statement, one which was particularly compelling given that the wrecks of those vessels with shipmasters too proud, stubborn or stupid to retreat. 

Standing head and shoulders above everyone else, even the Spartan-IVs who were lugging containers that weighed more than they did, were a cadre of Spartan-IIs. They sported as much variety in the colors and styles of their armor as their fresher compatriots, grey, red, blue, green, and black. As they split into separate groups, rare, public laughter broke out between the pair of Spartans in HERMES armor, as Corey gestured rudely at Kelly, closing the fingers and rotating them, checking over her MJOLNIR as they spoke. It was likely unnecessary, but Kelly was family, and he wasn’t going to let her go out there without confirming the diagnostics. 

“You gave her your knife, nearly cut open your glove with it too, and told her to give it back when you next saw her again.” Kelly chuckled, muting her body language as they switched over to private comms. “Never thought I’d see you clumsier with a blade than that time on -“ 

Corey snorted, shaking his head. "That’s what we get for rush-deploying without testing the armor. You nearly ran your own legs off, on that drop." 

"Like you do whenever you try and keep up?” She quipped.

“More like when the IVs tried to keep up with us during that training run.” Kelly got him to rotate, deft fingers and MJOLNIR enhanced strength pushing one of his thrusters back into alignment. “There’s Fred, at last.” The Spartan entered the hangar, his IFF automatically pinging Corey’s. Rather than coming directly to them, he headed over to a Prowler, which took the waiting Spartans a moment to realize was because he was with other people. 

“He’s seeing off the Ferret team,” Corey’s voice was barely above a whisper, even though he could’ve shouted at the top of his lungs and only Kelly would’ve heard him. The ONI specific software that ran parallel with his suit’s standard setup pinged the Ferret team, and the three young Spartan IIIs boarded the Prowler, acknowledgment lights from their SPI armor winking green in greeting. 

[Stay safe out there. Hunt well, and be good for Mom.] The message sent over text channels so as not to disturb Fred and Veta in their goodbyes. Kelly and Corey rested back against the hull of the Pelican, appearing as casual as anyone taller than two meters wearing half a ton of armor possibly could, and though they were relaxed with each other, both were coiled like springs, ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice. 

This moment, however, was one to be savored. Fred was in full armor aside from his helmet, though, from this angle they couldn’t lipread the conversation. The body language was enough to go on, they’d known each other since they were six. A small smile rose Corey’s lips as he watched Fred move in close. He lifted his and to touch her arm, thought better of it, and put it back down. While Fred wasn’t the most closed-off of the Spartans, seeing him allow the Inspector to rest her hand on his armor’s chest piece, told them something fundamental about the way he felt about her. After a few more moments of conversation, he looked conflicted, happy and almost upset at the same time. They shuffled awkwardly together, and Fred’s gloved hand slipped behind her back, pulling her into a careful hug, aware of both his strength and the armor itself. His entire frame relaxed in her arms, and it was for the longest moment as though the Spartan forgot about the rest of the galaxy, losing himself in that embrace. 

This interaction was so unlike the Fred that the Spartans were used to seeing that they could barely bring themselves to blink, let alone look away. Smiling down at Veta, a surprised look overtook his features as she used one of his armored boots as a step, stretching up and kissing his cheek, which flushed with heat as she stepped away. Staring at her retreating form for a few moments, Fred was quick to return his helmet to his head, his cheeks burning deeper as he realized that his fellow Spartans had witnessed the exchange. 

“Cute isn’t a word I’d have used to describe him, at least until now. Never seen a Spartan blush before.” They were speaking on TeamCom now, so Fred and Linda were both able to hear what was being said. 

“Now that I’ve seen it though, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unsee it.” Kelly chuckled. 

Fred made a noise into the com that might’ve been a snort, or him trying to cover up the expletive that burst from his mouth as he realized just how much they’d seen. Kelly swiped her fingers across the lower edge of her bulbous faceplate as Corey patted his brother’s shoulder - a conciliatory gesture. “We’re just glad you’re happy, Fred. She’s a good one.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during the Fall of Reach.

“Better get going, Six, they’re gonna need you down there. Listen, Reach has been good to me. Time has come to return the favor. Don’t deny me this.”  
  
“Tell ‘em to make it count.”

* * *

_For a moment, Corey was glad for his helmet. Reach had been good to all of them, it’d been their home, the place where bonds had been forged between brothers and sisters, growing from scared little kids to soldiers who inspired fear in the heart of the enemy. As he clasped his brother’s hand, he felt the tears well in his eyes. They had lost so many, yet they would all make this sacrifice for one another, for any of the millions of souls below. He wanted to tell him no, to take his place, and by the steel in his eyes, Jorge knew it too. They had only recently reunited, and he didn’t know how he could turn and walk away._  
  
Turns out Jorge saw that, too. As he handed over his tags, he gripped Corey’s hand, his other arm securing him, lifting him bodily from the ground - all half a ton of supersoldier and armor, as though he weighed little more than a sack of flour. As he drifted, caught by Reach’s gravity, he let the tears flow freely. It was a good death, he knew. As good a death as any Spartan could hope for. But that didn’t change the ache that grew within him as another piece of his family, of himself, died.   
  
Then, there was fire and pain, physical sensation that he focused on to the exclusion of all else. Ignoring the slipspace ruptures detected, the rush of more Covvies than even Reach could defend against. Just focus on the next step, the next enemy. And then the next until you kill them all, or you join him.  _He hauled himself out of the crater his impact had made in the instacrete at the edge of New Alexandria, staring up into the burning sky._  
  
Checking to ensure that Jorge’s tags had survived the fall, he kept them close. “We’ll win this war, or die trying. And I’ll give my last breath to see our home free again. Rest well, brother, and keep the fire burning for me. Find peace among our kin, you’ve earned it. I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Tucking the tags into his armor, Corey checked his sidearm, limping into the outskirts of the city. The civilians needed him.


	4. Prompt: The stars or space.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between the events of Halo 3 and 4. Precise time unknown.

His armor’s scanners didn’t detect anything that the Roland wouldn’t be able to pick up himself, massive plasma damage to the  Infinity’s hull, though the Covenant carrier that inflicted the damage sat a few kilometers off the vessel’s port bow, in pieces. Officially, the Spartan was EVA because he was one of the best trained zero-gee fighters aboard the ship, and they needed to inspect the damage to ensure that the covvies hadn’t added anything detrimental to the hull of the vessel. In reality, he was out here because he wanted to be.

He scanned the next gouge in the Titanium-A plating, springing off of the hull to capture an aesthetically pleasing piece of melted metal, shimmering in silver and pearlescence in the light of the nearby star. Careful not to crush it in his gauntletted grasp, the Spartan placed it into one of his belt pouches. “A little music please, Iona,” he murmured. “Something soft. Suprise me.“ 

The flickering image of the ONI AI who had become his personal companion smiled at him in the corner of his HUD and managed to capture the peace of his current mood with [something old, gentle, and classical.](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D5-MT5zeY6CU&t=YWIwYzk5ZDViNjMyZThiNTA5ZWNjY2ZiZGE4ZDBiMWRjZmNhY2RkYiwwWkEzd0lDbg%3D%3D&b=t%3A_eHlLmyIwvMPyXyQkWxxtg&p=http%3A%2F%2Fcorey-067.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F182939835221%2Fo-the-stars-or-space-for-whoever-strikes-your&m=1) “Pleasant surprise, I assume?” She knew that he was smiling, but he swept two fingers across his helmet’s bulbous visor, a ‘Spartan smile’, something which was reserved for very few outside of his own brothers and sisters. Iona had earned it. 

He floated there, another armored form, watching the gasses and flames that billowed, almost alive at the edge of the system. Music wove its way through his consciousness, and his heart rate slowed. He recalled - a lifetime ago - that while most of his peers had learned martial arts techniques for their physical properties, Corey had been noted to hold an interest in the discipline which lay beyond it. It had saved his life more times than he could count and helped others remain calm in situations which were anything but.  
  
The view reminded him of Reach, the closest thing to a home that any of the Spartan-IIs had, a home which so many of them had lost their lives defending. He had to believe that it wasn’t in vain, they’d won the war, though the cost was as horrific as any war. He was glad it was John who’d been there in the end, Corey only regretted that he’d not been alongside him. He didn’t believe that his brother was dead, either. Not that he was invincible, but if anyone could’ve survived, it was him. They’d been taught to trust their gut, and Corey’s told him that John was still out there. 

“Someday, we’ll bring you home.” So distracted was he, between the view and the music, that he didn’t notice the pair of yellow blips appear on his motion tracker, at least until Fred’s bassy tones penetrated his consciousness. He flinched, tumbling himself end over end before he used his suit’s thrusters to right himself, much to Kelly’s amusement. 

“Sleeping on the job again?” She chuckled.   
  
“You won’t believe me if I say no, so what the hell?” He swept his fingers across his visor as he planted his feet firmly once more. “It’s just… peaceful out here.” Peace was something that the Spartans didn’t get in any appreciable quantity. Unlike the Spartan-IVs aboard  _Infinity,_ they had been at war since they were little kids. There were those who had only stayed, himself and Kelly included so that they didn’t abandon the only family that they could ever remember. He reminded himself of that whenever he was doing ONI’s dirty work. 

“Roland says you completed your sweep, we’re about to head over to the carrier to see what the scientists can poke at, make sure it’s safe. You in?” Fred knew that he wouldn’t say no, and he could’ve ordered him to come along, but he asked anyway.

“Only if we’re racing the Pelican,” Corey chuckled. “Besides, there’s something different about  _this_ section.” He called up a small remote projector, something adapted from Covenant or Forerunner tech, he wasn’t sure which. The image showed green flames licking at the hull of the derelict vessel, and that coloration was something that made it worth investigating.   
  
“Roland, if anyone asks for me, please let them know where I am.” There was a degree of respect in his tone that the AI didn’t hear from many, but he’d proven himself to the Spartan, time and again. 

Even with mag boots to hold them firmly to the hull, it took less than five paces for the Spartans to accelerate to full speed, Kelly pulling ahead of them, leaping from the edge and firing a controlled burst of thrust to ensure they were on the proper course. Glancing from side to side, he noted that they’d fallen into a typical V formation. He tied into their biomonitors and noted with satisfaction that they were each rock-steady. 

Moments like this were some of those that he was at his most content. Just himself, the stars, and his family.


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**Nap Prompt for Corey-067 - From FlamingLambo**

* * *

 

He was comfortable, despite the Pelican bouncing in the turbulent air. Trouble was expected, but if it hadn’t been, then they wouldn’t have called two teams of Spartans in. It would be almost an hour before they arrived at their destination, and so Corey allowed his eyes to close, briefly dozing off, allowing the familiar roar of engines and bumping seats to lull him to sleep.

He had his helmet on, not for any strategic reason, other than that he’d been reviewing mission data until then. The Petty Officer’s head drooped to one side, and the conversation from the Spartans opposite lulled. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open at the Plink! of something hitting his helmet. He ignored it, closing his eyes once again. Plink! A larger chunk bounced directly off of his visor, and his eyes opened once more.

Kelly cocked her arm back to throw another chunk of the MRE, and the moment it left her fingertips, Corey’s hand came up. “Better use than eating it, I suppose,” he grinned, removing his helmet with a hiss.

Kelly smirked, brushing her hair out of her face. “Definitely. Better get ready, Spartan,” she smiled, “We’re almost there.”

Checking the clock on the Pelican’s bulkhead, he realized that he’d been asleep for almost an hour, without dreaming. He found it strange, as he gazed at each of the faces around him, covered or not, he realized that there was a simple explanation. With these Spartans, his kin, he felt safe.

* * *

**Candles Prompt for Sarah Palmer - From FlamingLambo**

* * *

Light flickered around her fingertips as they passed through the flames. The candles were the only source of light, bouncing off of the high, rough walls, both directly and dancing in the reflections of the water that flowed gently through the cavern. She was alone, and it felt strange to be here alone. Her adopted mother had brought her here a number of times, the family attempting to help her keep a connection with her familial roots. Though she’d been born and raised on Luna, her family had left Earth before her mother fell pregnant with her, and her adopted family felt it important to honor their traditions.

And so, every Autumn, so long as time and deployment permitted it, Palmer returned there, lighting candles she had carefully inscribed with her birth parents’ names. Though she wouldn’t consider herself religious, she still offered them a prayer in their native tongue, something that the Spartan reminded herself to practice more, the same as she did every year.

Though she knew that her parents were staunchly anti-UNSC, each year she would speak to them, through the flames, telling them of her exploits, her worries for the year to come, speaking in a way that not even those closest to her heard her speak. Pouring from a small flask of clear liquor, she drank to their memory before heading back to the nearby town. 

* * *

  **One Chance Prompt for Corey-067 - From KatWylder**

* * *

<</I am aware of you, Spartan. But you come too late. The others have already left aboard the Guardian,>> The Arbiter’s jaws had twitched in surprise when Corey had spoken to him in his native tongue, albeit in a much more broken fashion than a native speaker. While he understood more than he could speak, it was a gesture of respect from the Spartan.

<<Then you know my reputation, Kaidon. I am capable of doing this without permission and were it any other than you, I might consider it. But you proved yourself an ally and a friend to my brother, so I will grant you the respect owed.>> Information was displayed on the link between them, and the Spartan highlighted a grid square, a short distance into the sea from Sunaion.

The Arbiter gave what appeared to be an approximation of a human nod. <<I shall keep it clear of my ships, Spartan. To avoid complications. Hunt well.>>

<<Thank you, Kaidon.>> Corey cut the link, marching toward the back of the Prowler. Cloaked as it was, it appeared to have remained undetected by the Sangheili, preoccupied as they were with finishing the final remnants of the Covenant on their homeworld.

“You’ll only get one chance to get them out, Corey,” Astrid’s softly spoken words came over his helmet’s speakers as it sealed itself.

“Lucky I only need one, then.” Corey wished he felt as confident as he sounded, watching the storm whipped sea as the ramp lowered, more than two hundred meters in the air. Grabbing the one remaining air mask, he silently hoped for some of John’s luck as he sprinted, arrowing towards the surface at the last known point that Palmer’s pelican had gone down.

* * *

**Nightfall Prompt for Sarah Palmer - From KatWylder**

* * *

She wouldn’t have thought it, to look at him, but Corey had been remarkably gentle with her after they’d gotten back to land. He’d made sure that Halsey was okay, for good or ill that woman was the closest thing to a mother that he had. Palmer’s armor had been stripped carefully and stacked beside the makeshift tent that had been provided by the Arbiter so that her fellow Spartan could check her state of health in relative privacy. Cream had been applied to her various wounds to stave off infection, the older Spartan offering nothing but tender care.

She worried about the state of Infinity, about her friends aboard it, the Spartans under her command who would fight to protect the lives of everyone else aboard, and the friends that she’d lost during her time aboard the ship. Palmer’s gaze tracked across the burning sky, and she thought of Tom, hoping that he was safe and that he’d kept Infinity out of Cortana’s clutches. The UNSC she served wasn’t ready for another war, not one like this. Those they’d relied upon so heavily had turned on them, offering a chokehold and calling it peace.

Her thoughts were heavy, as though they’d been dragged down with the light. Things had gone wrong today, very, very wrong. As the last burning embers of the sunset drifted below the stormy sea, Palmer looked to the cliff below.

“Roio says that’s safe for humans. They used to give it to prisoners who were in shock, apparently.” Corey grinned. “How far we’ve come.” A mug of what might’ve been tea, its scent floral, but unfamiliar, though not unpleasant, was placed into her hands, and he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Palmer allowed herself to rest her weight against him, noting the smile when she did so. “We’ll figure it out, Sarah.”

“We always do.” She sipped at the beverage, finding the taste to be less cloying than the smell, one of the few things that she was grateful for, today.

 

 


End file.
